


Tempered

by MagitekUnit05953234



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canonical Character Death, FFXIV themes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 13:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20583068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagitekUnit05953234/pseuds/MagitekUnit05953234
Summary: Noctis opens his eyes to a dark world with a prayer on his lips and a blade through his heart.





	Tempered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NekoAisu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/gifts).

** _The Light waxes full._ **

Noctis opens his eyes to a dark world with a prayer on his lips and a blade through his heart. Oily black waves lap against Angelgard’s shore, coating the stones in miasma. Noctis curls his lip as he descends the slope away from the prison, soul crawling at the way the darkness clings to his boots.

A boat stained with shadow bobs beside the lowest point on the island, anchored for a decade yet still in good condition. Noctis sends up a prayer of thanks at the mercy he has been granted. He is not sure he could manage to swim to the mainland —though he would certainly die trying if he had to.

As Noctis steps onto the rotting wooden dock at the foot of the island, a dog’s bark gives him cause to turn back. Behind Noctis, a Messenger sits patiently with an envelope held in its mouth. Noctis sighs at the interruption but humors the Messenger nonetheless, taking the envelope and tearing it open. Inside, a note written in vaguely familiar script reads:

_ Be waiting in Hammerhead. _

Noctis turns the note over, expecting a signature or perhaps another message altogether. Some reason why he was given this. He can’t find one.

The note sinks beneath the waves and dissolves into the sea.

──────✧✦✧──────

“Where is he?”

The king is on his knees. The throne rises above him, empty and reddened. A sword, the king’s own sword, pierces the back like a pin in cork. 

“My son,” the king’s voice tightens, the words bloodying his throat as they claw their way out into the void. “Where is he?”

The air chills as the king bows his head, shoulders shaking ever so slightly. He doesn’t need to turn to know who has entered this empty promised land to witness his grief.

** _The Bladekeeper laid claim to the soul of the Chosen_**, the goddess’s cold hand touches the king’s shoulder and he seizes it, violently casting it away from him. The goddess remains cool, her voice unwavering. ** _The Chosen shall never find the path all mortals are meant to walk. _ **

The king’s breath hitches. His fingers curl in his lap, knuckles white.

** _With his Calling fulfilled, the King of Kings returns to the Draconian’s grasp. There he shall rest until the Ruination of our Star._ **

“Rest?” The king chokes. “_Rest? _ Subservience to the god that marked him for death? That is not rest. That is enslavement. That is _ greed_. Not only did Bahamut take my son’s life, you mean to tell me he took his death as well?”

The goddess does not speak.

The king begins to scream.


End file.
